Commit It
by seriousbiznasty
Summary: Dave's been struggling against depression and suicide for too long. He's always been able to stay strong. Until Bro pushes him over the edge. With a suicide attempt gone wrong, Dave falls off the edge but hits the fire escape. He barely escapes with his life, but that's it. No memories to accompany him. Now he really gets to understand Bro, and fall in love with him. It's mutual.
1. Mama Strider, Say Hello

The night air is still and quiet. Only the soft noises of cars zooming by twenty stories down echo up to the roof where you and your older brother stand. It's been five hours. Five hours of non-stop training. You're exhausted. If you had known that this is how you were going to be punished for skipping, you never would have.

You're panting softly, trying your hardest to hide how tired you are, but he knows. And he isn't backing down. Bro launches himself at you, but you can't find the will to block. He stops, his sword centimeters from your throat. He pushes you back towards the edge a little closer than you're comfortable with, and you let him.

"Come on, Dave. Fight back. Don't be such a little pussy."  
"Bro... I can't. I think I'm gonna pass out."

"What do you mean? You've had plenty of time to rest up. All week, even." You let your head hang a little lower and sigh under your breath. "I hate that damn school. I'm miserable there. I have no friends, Bro. I'm a complete fuckup. I just needed some time off." Bro launches another attack, but you step back just in time to avoid it.

Closer to the edge.

"You're right, Dave. You don't have any friends. You're just a fuckup, and that's all you'll ever be. Now I have to go to fucking court, and you're probably gonna get taken away. So congrats, lil bro. You probably won't have to go to that school anymore, you'll be out of the district. Or maybe, when you got arrested last month, I should have let you rot in jail. Then I wouldn't have to put up with this shit anymore. I never asked for you, you were thrust upon me by the hands of a goddamn anti-miracle worker. I should have given you up the very fucking moment I got you."

You don't know if you feel betrayed, or if that's just hurt. Probably both, along with some other negative emotions. You have no friends who care. No family that cares. A brother that doesn't love you. Never have you ever felt so lonely in your entire life. Never have you ever felt so...

Worthless.

You don't know how long you've been trying to fight off depression. You don't know how many times you've talked yourself out of drinking a gallon of bleach or swallowing the entire medicine cabinet. You don't know how many times you told yourself that Bro still cares about you. That he would lose it if you killed yourself.

But it doesn't really matter anymore, does it?

You try to keep your voice from cracking, but you can't seem to. "You know why I skipped, Bro? You know why I got arrested for beating up that guy?" You step back on the very edge of the roof. "You don't. You don't care." You can feel the tears running down from under your shades, but you honestly couldn't care less. This is the last time Bro will ever see you alive, anyways. "Then tell me, Dave. Why?" You figure sure, why the hell not? So you roll up your sleeves to show a mass collection of cuts and burns and scars on each arm, starting from the elbow up to the shoulder. You roll the legs of your pants to show a few on your thighs.

And there's something you can see in Bro's face that changes. You could care less.

He takes a step forward, and you hold a foot out over the edge. He freezes.

"Dave... Come on, we can talk about this."  
"Oh, so NOW you want to talk? Fuck off! I am SO goddamn sick of your FALSE cares and your LIES. You don't care, just admit it. Fuck off, Bro. "  
"Dave-"

You don't give him time to argue. You just don't care anymore. You step off the edge. You fall. And now, you're positive when you say Bro doesn't care.

Because he doesn't move to catch you.

But honestly, you probably should have checked to see how far over you needed to be to avoid hitting the fire escape.

And you didn't.

Clatter and clangs echo loud enough for the whole city to hear, it feels like, as you hit the metal over a good ten times on your way down. After you thunk your head, you can't feel anything. You can't see, you can only hear ringing. The outside world is barely a murmur in your ear. Too many careless whispers all happening at once, you can't make anything out. You can just barely hear soft screams, sirens chasing the road. It becomes more faded and faded with each second that passes. Just a few more, and it's dead silent.

Your black vision fades to white. It hurts your eyes, and you wonder if you're wearing your shades. You pat your face. You're not. Well shit, where the dickens did they go? You ask out loud where your shades are. A voice echoes out that you don't need them. You say that's bullshit, you so need them. You don't get to argue for long. Someone touches your face, a woman, and you feel all sorts of calm. Peace, serenity, vague happiness. The woman stares at you gently, not menacingly or creepily, and gives you a warm smile. "Dave," she says, "welcome home, sweetheart."

You know this woman, you know who she is. You can recall the memories from when you were a baby. She stood over your crib, she held you when you cried. Your eyes almost pop out of your skull.

"Mom?" She nods and pulls you into a hug. "Come with me, Davie."  
"Mom, what's going on? I can't... What's happening?"  
"Follow me," she says as she takes your hand, pulling you towards the brighter light.

You follow her.

Just before you get to where you're headed, she's ripped away from you, and your vision returns back to black as a charge runs through you.

You're angry. You're raging. Who the fuck came up with the bright idea to take you away from your mother, the woman you haven't seen since you were ten months old? You'll tear them to pieces. You were torn away from the calm and peace and shoved back into this anger and pain. God, the pain was so bad. You try to call out for your mom , but all you make is an incoherrent groggy noise. You try to open your eyes, with just a little success, and see people hovering over you. They shine a light in your eyes, and you immediately shut them until you're sure the light is gone.

Someone grabs your hand, and you look over to see who it is. Some man with really stupid looking sunglasses. And a hat. He has the coldest expression his face. Unfeeling. There's blood all over his white shirt. You continue to stare at him, because as long as you look at him, they couldn't shine that damn light in your eyes. Don't they know who you are? You are Dave Fucking Strider. They don't need to be shining no light in your eyes. You would kick their asses in a minute and a half.

You feel a sharp, sharp sharp sharp stab in your side, and you cry out in the most agonizing scream you can muster. You were already feeling like shit, you can't handle that on top of it. The man squeezes your hand a bit more, and you squeeze back. You can't take it, though. You shut down again, your grip going slack as you're shoved back into the darkness.

You look for your mom again, you look for the light, both without success. So you decide to just give up, curl up in a ball, and wait for something to happen.

What have you done?

You've just pushed your little brother into commiting suicide, that's what.

You can't move. You're too tense, too shocked and afraid to make yourself move when he steps off the edge. Only when you hear the first clang do you force your heavy body over to the edge.

And you see him hit every landing of the fire escape on the way down.

You want to puke, but you hold it back and jump down after him, landing on your feet on the first platform and flashstepping the rest of the way down. There's blood everywhere, blood that you spilled. He lands with a loud flop onto the thankfully uncrowded sidewalk, and he doesn't move. You're right behind him. A small puddle of blood starts to form around his head, oh so slowly, and you rip off your shirt and place it against the wound. There are other cuts that he's bleeding out of, but those are a lot lot slower than his head wound. You check to see if he's still breathing, and thank the invisible God that probably exists when you hear a faint heartbeat. A crowd has started to gather, and much of the audience is on their phones, calling for help. You don't say a word, you don't spill a tear. But you feel like you deserve a lethal injection.

You did this. And you'll never forgive yourself.

You can slowly feel your cool breaking as the sirens start up, and you take a few deep, rugged breaths. Dave has to wake up, he has to be okay. "Dave, come on, wake up." You shake him a bit, but he only moves the way you force him to. "Dave, wake up." You shake him harder. No response. "Dave, get up!" You slap him across the face, but he doesn't do anything. You can feel your tears building up, and you remove his shades. His eyes are closed, almost like he's sleeping. "For God's sake, Dave! Wake the fuck up!" You clutch at his shirt and hold onto him as the ambulance arrives. They try to take him away from you, they try to tell you that you can't come with them. "I'm his brother!" you shout. "I take care of him, please." They'll let you come if you let go of him. It takes all of your willpower, but you loosen your grip on his shirt. You tell them everything they need to know as they load him up into the transport. Bloodtype, medication allergies, the fact that yes, his eyes are like that, and what exactly happened.

You climb in after the paramedics do, the doors shut, the truck moves, and you watch with a dead-set face as they try to stabalize your little brother. As each second passes, the paramedics get more and more frantic, the beeping of Dave's heart monitor becoming more and more frantic. You want to jump in, want to do something, but you know you'll just be getting in the way of the paramedics.

What really stops your heart is hearing Dave flatline.

Everyone is rushing to revive him, and you have that urge to vomit again, vomit and scream and cry all at once. But you can't make yourself move.

They shock him three times before he suddenly jumps back to life. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. He makes this god awful rasping noise, he's responsive, and you hold onto his hand. You hold onto his hand like it's the only thing keeping him alive. He looks over at you with the blankest expression in his eyes. It's almost like he isn't there.

You don't know what happens, but he lets out the most agonizing scream you've ever heard erupt from him, and you literally want to die. His grip on your hand fades, he goes under, but his heart rate is stable. That's enough to satisfy you for now.


	2. Easily Distracted

There's another bright light, but it doesn't hold the same warmth as before. It's a false light, artificial. You hate it, but you subcum and open your eyes. More white, but no love, no contentment. Just pain. God, that pain... You're sick of it. Sick of feeling it, sick of it nagging at your nerves.

You slowly look around the room. You're starting to grow sick of the color white. When you look down at yourself, you see wires and tubes. Your left arm is in a hard cast, and your write arm is wrapped from your wrist to your shoulder. You can feel bandages along your torso, and you can see a cast along your right foot.

You try to push yourself up, but that's apparently a bad idea. You groan loudly and take in quick, sharp breaths, slowly sinking back down into your uncomfortable-as-shit bed. A man is at your side instantly, orange eyes gazing down at you. Orange... "Dave? Dave, try not to move."

"Now... y... tell me..." The words don't seem to come out right. They're strangled, butchered. You close your eyes and slow your breaths, taking them in deeply. The pain subsides, and you go back to breathing normally. You look over at the man. He looks like a wreck. "Dave, I... I'm so sorry. Fuck, this is all my fault. I'm so sorry. I had no idea you felt this way, I... I'm a shitty guardian, fuck, I'm so so sorry."

You just stare up at this guy, because you can't really say much. You rest your hand over his, which is gripping the metal bed frame. This guy looks like he's about to break down any second now, so you give his hand a squeeze. You honestly have no idea why he's so upset. Did he do this to you? That's what it sort of sounds like. It can't be, though. This guy is such a mess. He said he was your guardian. Obviously, he loves you a lot. He would never do this to you.

He takes in a couple of deep breaths and looks up at you. There's something nagging at the back of your brain, something subtly familiar about this guy. You raise your head and are instantly met with a migraine. With a wince, you slowly raise your arm to the back of your head and feel a bandage. Your wince drops. You feel the bandage all the way around your head, and you start to panic.

What happened to you? Are you brain damaged? Fuck, what's going on?

"Dave, hey, take it easy." The man reaches for your wrist, but you jerk away from him. You don't know this guy, you don't want him to do anything. You don't know where you are, or what's going on, you don't know anything and you're scared."...Dave, wha-"

"No," you rasp out. The man slightly nods and backs off. So that's all it took? The man holds out a cup to you. "It's water." You turn from him and look out the window on the other side of you. It's a big window. And apparently, you're very high up. Cars zoom down below, and you get another hit of deja vu.

"Dave, I get you're upset with me, but you have to at least drink something. I know you're thirsty."

You snatch the cup away from him and turn back to the window, sipping on the straw until it's all gone. It's amazing how much better your throat feels. "Where are we?" you quietly ask. There's a bit of bite to your voice, but it's mainly due to the situation. "We're at the hospital... Dave, I'm sorry, I-"

"Who are you?" you cut him off. He doesn't reply to that. "What?" He sounds surprised, caught off-guard. Something tells you that doesn't happen often. You repat the question, a little more insistent this time.

"Who are you?"

"...Dave, it's me. Bro. You know, your brother? I take care of you. I raised you. Any of this ringin a bell?" You shake your head, continuing to stare out the window. "Well, what do you remember?" You don't reply for a minute, trying to think. But you can't, you can't focus, you can't recall anything. So you shrug.

"Anything?"  
"No."  
"Are you s-"  
"I'm pretty fucking sure."  
"Alright, alright. Just... try to calm down."

"Calm down?" You look over at him. "You want me to fucking calm down? Why the hell don't we just beat you to oblivion, take away everything you fucking knew, and stick you in a hospital with some GOD DAMN stranger in the room! I'm fucking scared and stressed to fucking hell and back, so get the FUCK off of my back!"

* * *

You leave Dave alone for a bit and tear the hospital up, looking for his doctor. It doesn't take but a few demands, and she appears in front of Dave's door. "Mr. Strider, is he awake?"  
"Yeah, and he doesn't fucking know who I am, or what happened, or anything." You push your hair back out of your face and huff. You don't have your shades to hide your eyes, hide your true emotion, but you can't bring yourself to give a fuck right now.

She slowly pushes the door open, and Dave is staring out the window. "Dave?" she asks. He doesn't respond, just continues to stare out the window. You stand by the door as she moves closer, taking the seat by the bed. "Dave," she repeats, and he turns to look at her. "Dave, I'm Dr. Smith. I'm just going to ask you a few questions, and answer them if you can. If you can't, that's fine." He nods and stares down at her clipboard.

"What year is it?" He shrugs and looks down at his hands. "I don't know."  
"What's your full name?" He doesn't reply. He runs the tips of his fingers up his cast. "Dave." He looks up at her. "What's your full name?"  
"David Alexander Strider." She jots down a note on the paper, and you can see.

_Distracted easily._

"When's your birthday?" He sighs, and the annoyance is clear. "I don't know."  
"Well, do you know hold old are you?"  
"I'm seventeen."

_Partial sense of identity._

"How are you feeling?" He rolls his eyes. "Look at me. How the fuck do you THINK I feel?"

_Agitated; emotionally unstable._

"Can you tell me the the first thing you can remember?" He looks back out the window. You can see him tense just slightly, and you know that it's not something pretty. "I remember being in the ambulance... My side hurt. Really bad." He's lying. You can tell he's lying, the way his shoulders tense slightly. "Well, you had a rib poking out. That was probably it." You both shudder, and you sigh. The doctor motions you closer, and you stand beside her, next to the bed. "I think Dave is suffering from post-traumatic amnesia. He still has a sense of who he is, which is common, but his long-term memories have been affected. He may have trouble creating new long-term memories, as well as recovering his old ones. It will get better as his concussion heals."

He's gazing out the window again, and you rest your face in your hand. "How long until he remembers everything?" Dr. Smith shrugs. "His concussion is pretty severe... I'd say a week, maybe two. We should keep him here for another day or two, just to make sure he doesn't slip back into a coma. He's been asleep for a week." You nod. "I'm going to let you two catch up. "

After she heads out the door, you take your seat back. "Dave." He glances at you. "How did I get here? What happened?" You're quiet for a minute before you answer. "You tried to kill yourself. We live in a tall apartment complex, and you jumped." He just stares at you, keeping his face blank, but his eyes betray him. He's horrified. "Why?" You scratch the back of your head. "Because I wasn't there when you needed me most. I had no idea that you were so wound tight, so upset, and I said a few things to you that I really didn't mean. I just..." You huff and bury your face into your hands. It's quiet and a bit muffled, but it's still audible.

"I almost lost you."

You're caught a bit off guard when you feel Dave wrapping his arms around you, cast clumsily thumping against you.

"It's okay."


End file.
